


I Feel Pretty and Witty and

by radiodurans



Series: 500 Words of Harry Styles [2]
Category: BBC Radio 1 - Fandom, Harry Styles (Musician)
Genre: Fishnets, General 2018 Gryles Angst, In which sad sex is yes actually, M/M, Masturbating, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiodurans/pseuds/radiodurans
Summary: Harry masturbates to that picture of Nick Grimshaw in red fishnets.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Nick Grimshaw
Series: 500 Words of Harry Styles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064012
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	I Feel Pretty and Witty and

**Author's Note:**

> My brain saw this picture: https://twelvegrimmyplace.tumblr.com/post/183277584472/this-is-a-strange-ask-maybe-but-i-swear-i-can and then I was like hhhhhhhhhh nghhh thhhhhh and this happened.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Please do not send Mx. Harry Styles this fic. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are coincidental yadda yadda etc. I make no claims about Harry Styles' actual sexuality or gender within this story. Think of it as a roman a clef with the real names still tacked on.

Harry’s hand is jammed hard down his pants, furiously wanking his cock as he stares at the image on his phone. A drop of sweat rolls down his forehead and misses the phone’s screen by a centimeter. He’s hunched over himself, not even lying down, squatting over the edge of the bed like some sort of _teenager_ trying to come before their mum calls them for dinner.

This isn’t right. He _shouldn’t_ be doing this.

( _God_ – why does that make it _hotter_?)

The wank material in question that has gotten him so _bothered_ is an image of a person he _really_ shouldn’t be wanking over. Namely – fucking _Nick_ in a bloody pair of _red fishnets_ and a _Gucci_ t-shirt. The whole look practically _screams_ , “your move, Styles” – or it _would_ if Harry hadn’t recently made some extremely crass comments about the age of his new boyfriend that caused Nick to ice him out in the hipster-crew group chat and “forget” to answer his texts and phone calls for days at a time.

(Harry knows via Aimee that, as of late, Nick has made a second ‘no-Harry-Styles-allowed’ group chat which, okay, is something he probably deserves after what he said. Drunkenly shouting, _Twelve! Twelve years younger, everyone! Never change, Nick_ , before downing another shot of tequila was not one of his most treat-people-with kindness moments.

Neither was openly snogging a male stranger to try and make Nick jealous at his 33rd birthday party but – he hadn’t _officially_ been with Mesh then so it wasn’t _as_ bad.)

Harry rolls his thumb over the head of his damp cock. A bead of pre-cum spills out over his hand. _Fuck._

It’s not like Harry has never seen Nick in fishnets before. Plenty of their late nights a lifetime ago ended with Nick strung out on coke and dressed down to a piece of lingerie. Harry holds those nights in his memory – the heat of Nick’s hard cock bunched up in his pants and rolled around in Harry’s hand. How rough fishnets felt against his bare thighs as Nick manhandled him on the bed. Looking up at his smeared lipstick, at a ruddy cheek, at smudged eyeshadow – mussed by the party and by himself. Flicking a false eyelash hanging off the corner of Nick’s eye and laughing at his surprised-relieved-fond look.

Nick would say _you can still be a man if you wear lace knickers_ and Harry would laugh. His chest hair would be tight in Harry’s fist and his cock would be rock hard against Harry’s leg and Harry would believe him. Then – mouth to mouth, lipstick on his tongue, feeling vicariously brave. Thinking, _one day._

Harry’s heartbeat pounds in his ears. His wrist hurts from the pounding he’s giving it. Nick smirks up at him as if he knows the naughty thoughts that keep Harry up at night. The dreams where he says, _I’m like you, but something else, too._

Fuck. He’s coming. _So_ hard.

The phone falls and the photo disappears.


End file.
